Jonah's eyes darkened with protest.

"Go on. I don't need a thing and besides, I can tell that you two want to be alone." The old man waved one hand.

"Come, let's go for a walk."

Lord, he was an enormous man, all brawny shoulders and powerful arms and a chest as broad as a woman's dreams. Tessa swallowed.

"A walk?" She couldn't imagine where they might walk.

" 'Tis pleasant in the sunshine." He gestured toward the small window.

"Surely, in nearly freezing weather."

"I'll lend you a cloak." Smooth as rum, sly as a devil, Jonah drew her around the bed, his grip on her wrist as firm as a manacle.

Grim determination shone in his eyes. How he looked so exhausted. Tiny lines fanned out from the corners of his eyes. Darkness bruised the tanned skin beneath. Even the skin beneath the high cut of his cheekbones looked hollow.

She hadn't realized. He needed to discuss matters concerning his father's health. Of course that could not be spoken within the patient's hearing.

"I'm finished here for now," she managed in a light voice, determined to do her duty by Samuel Hunter. "I'll meet you outside, Jonah."

His dark eyes flashed a warning. What was he feeling? She couldn't tell. Not with the grim set of his square jaw, his lips a tightly compressed line. A prickle of foreboding wrapped around her chest.


* * *

What was taking Tessa so damn long? Jonah paced in the backyard, the fallow garden nothing but a row of humps beneath the half-frozen layers of snow, ice and mud.

He could picture her gathering up the wet towels and carrying them with the basin to the kitchen. Tessa, so neat and thorough, was also taking too damn much time. He wanted to get this over with.

He wasn't at all sure he could find the courage to do it.

Marry her? How his brothers had howled, bending double with the irony of it all. Yet it all came down to duty. Who else would tend her father? All but for her heart-tender feelings for the old man, she was completely unsuitable. Everything about her was wrong. From her sparse skinniness to her outrageously bossy ways.

A man wanted a biddable wife, someone he could lead. Make decisions for. Be in charge of. A man's place was at the head of the family, not being browbeaten by a woman twice as smart as he.

"I wager five pounds he falters," Thomas had challenged Andy's bet not an hour before. Serious minded Thomas. Who frowned upon wagers of any sort.

He could always back out. That was it. Jonah studied the wrapped parcel in his hands. Hell, he didn't have to marry her. The mere thought of it…

And yet she did not covet his wealth. They were close in age. And there was a tenderness in her touch when she tended her father. Such a thing could not be faked.

Aye, but life with her would be…

"Jonah?" She crossed the porch with a light step, facing into the wind. The current lifted back the tangle of untamed curls from her forehead and brushed her loose clothes back against her body.

She was a slight thing, fine boned and deceptively delicate. Her blue gaze speared his, and his mouth opened but nothing came out.

Run for your life, man.

"I know the doctor fears your father mightn't recover." She lifted her skirts above the frozen ground and soft patches of mud. "This must be a hard time for you."

His gaze landed on her slim fingers clutching that simple fabric. He knew damn well she'd helped grow the flax and harvest it, spun the thread and woven it, cut and sewed the skirts herself. One look at her callused hands told him she'd never had a respite in her life, never had it easy, and would never be a lazy, self-indulgent person.

Just what he was looking for in a wife. Except she was Tessa Bradford.

"Aye. The doctor is not certain, but he has reason to fear the worst." Jonah tore his gaze from hers. Agitated, he started pacing. What the hell was he going to do?

Andy and Thomas were probably in one of the rooms behind him, sneaking glances between the curtains through the window. He could not see them but felt the amused weight of their gazes.

"I hope you didn't come out here to try to kiss me again." Her chin came up, and she looked ready to fight.

Jonah figured she needed to be tough just to survive in Ely's household. Maybe if she weren't so overworked and ill treated, she would be more biddable. Maybe. He wasn't sure.

"Because if you want another kiss, I-"

"Marry me." He blurted the words because he couldn't figure out another way to say them.

Her bow shaped mouth fell open. "What did you say?"

Oh, Lord, what had he done? He'd proposed to her. Just like that. This was wrong, wrong, wrong. What would life be like married to strong willed Tessa?

But the image of her tending Father, her gentle hands soothing cool water across his brow, assured him. She was the right one.

Besides, she'd worked harder making soups and teas and gruel for Father, changing his sheets, washing him, fearing over his fever, and going without sleep than all the women combined with their breads and puddings and pastries.

Duty. He repeated the word until he felt fortified.

Tears shimmered in her eyes. He realized she'd been staring at him silent for an entire minute. Silent. Perhaps he was right. Perhaps the problem with Tessa Bradford was that she was unhappy and overworked. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad after all.

Even if he felt damn awkward, he held out the package. The cloak he offered her earlier. "I want you to have this."

Her lower lip trembled. "Why are you teasing me like this?"

"What?" Jonah shook his head. Something wasn't working properly in his brain. He thought she'd said-"Teasing you?"

Her soft face crumpled, and she looked so heartbroken he had no idea what to do-or what he'd done.

"You." Tears spilled down her cheeks. "You think this is funny? That you can play a joke like this?"

She thought this was a joke? "Tessa, I-"

"You are a heartless, cruel cad, Jonah Hunter, and I will hate you to the end of my days." She swiped at those tears, but they came faster now. "You know darn well what my fate is. Do you think I want to marry Horace? Don't you think I'm terrified? How dare you-"

A sob wracked her slim body, shaking her like a young tree in the wind.

Jonah stared down at the carefully wrapped cloak, uncertain what he'd done to make her think- Where was she going?

He looked up to see the flap of her skirts and the stiff set of her narrow back. Anger punctuated her fast steps, and he could tell she was still swiping at her tears.

Jonah took off after her, dashing across uneven ground. "Tessa. Wait a minute."

She broke into a run.

Damn, she was fast, too. He raced after her. Cold air beat at his face. Confusion pulsed through him. He only knew he'd hurt her. She thought he'd been teasing her.

"Tessa." His free hand closed around her elbow.

"Leave me alone. You've had your fun." A sob twisted her last word, leaving him feeling big and foolish and helpless.

Damn, just what he didn't expect from her.

"Tessa." He pulled her to a stop, swung her around to face him. "Listen to me."

Tears silvered her eyes. Her lower lip quivered. Another sob broke through her.

"Tessa, I'm sorry." Damn it, he didn't know what to do. He was used to working with soldiers, and they sure as hell didn't cry. She looked vulnerable, felt so small. His entire hand fit easily around her elbow.

"I shall never forgive you." Another wobbly sob.

Contrite. Confused. Hell, he wasn't handling this the right way. "Tessa, I hope-"

He stopped. She was crying and he didn't know what to do, how to make her stop. Tears kept spilling down her face, one after another, silent and sorrowful.

It was so simple to reach out and brush at those tears with his fingertips. More tears came, but this time her gaze met his, so full of hurt he didn't know what to say.

Propose to her. Remember your duty. Father. Procreation.

At least he liked the prospect of procreating with her. His groin ached at the thought of her in his bed, those dark tangles of curls fanning across his pillow and clutched in his hands as she surrendered her body to him.

"I want to marry you."

She blinked, spilling more tears. "You d-don't." She sniffed, and even that seemed vulnerable. "Stop saying that"

She didn't believe him. Confused, he stared down at her, his heart pounding like Indian war drums. At least he knew she didn't covet his possessions, didn't want him for his money. 'Twas a good start.

"Tessa." He released his hold on her and began unwrapping the bundle he carried. The thinning daylight revealed the length of fine folded wool.

"I have to go," she whispered. "I have supper to prepare for Grandfather's family."

"Don't go." He meant it as an order, but it came out like a request. He shook out the cloak.

She drew in a shaky breath. "I'll be back to tend your father. I shouldn't be gone more than two hours."

She wasn't ever going to slave for that ungrateful family again. Jonah laid the cloak across her thin shoulders, so close he could smell the faint scent of wild roses in her hair. His guts clenched. Blood drummed through unmentionable parts of his body.

"You said a cloak this fine should go to my wife, the wife I've come home to marry." She deserved a little kindness. He'd hurt her feelings. Had he been so thoughtless to her? Shame filled him. He'd proposed, and she was so unsure of him she mistakenly believed he would hurt her cruelly. Now, what did she believe?

"I can't be your wife, Jonah." Another sniff. More tears vibrating in her eyes, so dark and drawing he could not look away.